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Two days after I had The Closer (that would be unmedicated, Shane), I got this searing pain in my leg. I looked down and realized that I had what appeared to be a clot in my vericose vein.

I have never had a clot in a vein before. I was sure I was dying. You get a clot in your vein, you throw the clot (not exactly sure how you choose which direction to throw it or who came up with THAT terminology anyway) and then you are dead. You are dead two days after you give unmedicated birth to gynormous head and now your husband is a widow with three children, ages 4, 2, and 2 days old. Either that or you are like Dick Cheney sitting in a wheelchair at the inauguration, looking horribly put out, just because he didn’t do those exercises with your feet (make the letters of the alphabet) to keep your circulation going on long flights on Air Force Two.

There I was crying and I called the midwife. She was all, “what blood clot? Call me back in an hour if you don’t feel better.” This is a standard midwife thing, this call me back in an hour. I hung up the phone as Derek was walking in from getting the mail.

K: I have a blood clot and I’m gonna die.
D: That’s funny, because this notice we just got in the mail today says your life insurance policy was cancelled due to lack of payment.

Crap. I knew I forgot to pay something last month and now I’m going to die and my husband won’t be able to bury me, let alone find someone to take care of my children. And this is not good because if he doesn’t have money to bury me, I wouldn’t put it past him to just dig a hole in the back yard and plead some “she would want to be close to us” BS to avoid the expense altogether.

Then I called my FIL in Australia and he said that as long as it wasn’t creeping up my leg, I was probably fine. It was 3:30 a.m. there. Oops.

I called the life insurance guy and said I got the notice. And I borrowed the lovely “due to an oversight I failed to pay the bill” wordage they had so graciously provided. But then my midwife called back in the middle of the call because she knew that “call me back in one hour” might be a not-so-good idea if it was gonna kill me and I yelled “I have to go, Pete. The doctor is calling me and I really need to take this. I’ll call you back.”

With that the midwife told me to go get an ultrasound to make sure I wasn’t dying.

Susie Sunshine: You know you just told your insurance agent that you had to hang up to talk to a doctor, right?
K: Yeah.
Susie Sunshine: Isn’t that kinda letting him in on the fact that you might be dying?
K: Yeah.
Derek: You might want to hold back that info until AFTER you pay the bill.

Seriously? Seriously. With friends and husbands like this, who needs enemies.

The vein that has the clots (yes, my clot had babies) is a superficial vein and they don’t do anything for it. It is caused by the combo of my bad veins and the surge of estrogen after the baby is born that keeps you from bleeding out. It makes sure you clot. It’s just that I also clotted my whole damn leg. They don’t do anything for it, it hurts like a mofo, they don’t know when it will get better and now I get to wear support compression hose that take 15 minutes to put on. It’s awesome. But at least now I have life insurance again and I’m not going to throw a clot. WooHOO!!

Glad you managed not to die after birthing that ginormous head. Thank god for auto-pay or I’d never remember to pay my life insurance policy. It’s one of those things you just don’t think about until you’re dying, then it’s all ‘oh shit, now what?’

If the Baby Store wasn’t already closed, I’d tell you to fire that midwife. Sheesh, you push a gynormous head through a soda straw without the benefit of modern chemistry and she has the temerity to tell YOU to call HER back in *AN HOUR*?!?

I thought midwifes (midwives?) were supposed to be all TLC and fawning over you. After all, for at least the labor and delivery part, it should be all about you.